Bright Red Butt
by Luck Laden Lefty
Summary: Private lets his petulance take hold while the team is out on a mission which results in all four of them being captured and detained. And when they finally break free and return to the safety of the Central Park Zoo, Skipper sees it only fair to punish the infantile recruit.


Bright Red Butt

The tiny penguin yelped as the slab of wood came down hard on his backside, the stinging it left a reminder of his folly. He felt the smooth finish of the paddle remove itself from his stinging rear, giving him a mere moment of relief before it came down again on the other section of his backside. Now with both sides of his bum experiencing a suffuse stinging sensation, the little penguin craned his neck to look back at his leader, thinking his punishment to be over; unfortunately that was not that case as he felt the unwavering slab of wood swing down and once again strike his rapidly reddening bottom.

"I really wish I didn't have to do this Private," he heard his leader grouse in his usually steely tone as he delivered another righteous smack to his subordinate's backside.

"I suppose I deserve it Skipper," the little penguin replies biting his beak in an attempt stifle his yelps of pain.

"Maybe now you'll learn not to save things just because they look cute." Private would be lying to himself if he said he wouldn't take it into consideration after Skipper was through humiliating him. It was partially his fault after all that that last week's mission had gone so sour so fast. It started out as a regular mission; they were to infiltrate the lair of a notorious criminal and take him out, clean and quiet with no witnesses. The plan went off without a hitch; that is, up until private's eye caught the wide glassy look of a small squirrel looking creature. Needless to say attempting to rescue said creatures from the underbelly of the city they were slinking around in wasn't the brightest idea as the tiny creatures were in fact working in concert with the tyrant.

They were bound, gagged and hauled away faster than any of them could comprehend; left to stew in the dank cold of an empty cell until their captor could deduce an appropriate way to end them. It was only thanks to Skipper's sharp leadership skills and quick thinking did they eventually escape their confinement and make it back to the zoo alive; although the four days they'd spent chained together took a heavy toll on each member of the team.

Private had been wary of imminent punishment the second they stepped foot in their so badly missed HQ, but it didn't come with Skipper's usual diligence; instead the private found himself awoken in the dead of night and told to meet his leader outside before he could get a word in edgewise. The private felt an uneasy sickness flouncing around in the pit of his stomach as he heard the latch to their headquarters fall shut more quietly than he was used to. Tentatively he climbed the ladder; the familiar weight of the latch demarcating their base of operations from the outside world feeling unusually heavy as he pushed it opened and was greeted with the biting chill of a particularly cold summer night.

He found Skipper standing there not ten paces from his current position, eyes completely unreadable and eerily too focused on his cowering body.

"Private," he started, forcing the private's attention to be drawn to his leader just as intently as his leader's was on him. Private had been in the military long enough to pick up skills that didn't directly relate to combat, and using his knowledge of espionage and interrogation that he'd picked up from various books and videos, he searched the simple, paltry exclamation of his name for any indication that his leader was in the mood to indulge his disciplinary instincts. Unfortunately for Private, the same books and videos he'd studied so studiously were the same ones that his leader had a pious devotion to. The ones he spent countless nights reading and re-reading, making sure to memorize every detail and take to heart every code and regulation.

The cadet spared a few more curt moments staring into his leader's eyes, searching for an errant spark of compassion or a glint of sympathy; he found neither. What he found instead was that his commanding officer's look had now changed slightly. He still had the same stoic, almost cold expression about his features, but upon closer inspection the cadet noticed the beginnings of a scowl etched into the sides of his beak, making it curve downward in a disapproving manner.

The little soldier resigned himself right then and there, using the painful stretch of pregnant silence to hoist himself the rest of the way out of the hatch and into the gelid grip of the summer night's wind. He kept his head down all the while as he marched upon his skipper, stopping in front of the slightly larger penguin, his stance tentative and skittish.

"You endangered the lives of our entire team on that last mission soldier; what do you have to say for yourself?" The little penguin visibly cringed as the leader's words sunk in. He was right, it was all his fault. If he had even half of the willpower his leader did, he could've been able to resist the allure of those enormous tear-brimmed eyes and saved his team all the guilt and strife of being incarcerated by the tyrannical leader and his subordinates.

"I honestly don't know Skipper." His voice sounds as pathetic as he looks, his head turned downward, his eyes boring holes into the hard slab of the concrete floe they lived in.

"You realize this means I have to punish you?" The cadet nods wordlessly, raising his head with his eyes screwed shut, waiting for the stinging discipline of his leader's flipper to cross his face. Skipper looks upon the scene with pangs of sympathy prodding at his heart. In all honesty, he didn't want to punish the cadet, but protocol dictated that any soldier who puts the mission before his team's safety is to be punished no questions asked. But as he raises his flipper, more than ready to deliver the prophesied punishment, something stops him. He looks upon the cadet with his brow furrowed, flipper twitching in anticipation. _No_, he thought to himself as he balls his flipper into a fist. _This time, a mere slap won't suffice_.

"Come with me solider," he instructs, his tone serious as ever. Private, not wanting to accentuate wrath of his commanding officer any further, follows without retort. Skipper leads them back down the hatch and silently opens the door to Kowalski's laboratory. He ushers his insubordinate comrade inside before shutting the door as quietly as he can. Private wonders exactly why it is Skipper lead him into the resident genius' lab, but doesn't vocalize his confusion. Instead he watches, perplexed as Skipper goes over to one of the lesser used cabinets and jimmies the lock. Finally wrenching open the cabinet, he reaches inside and extracts what appears to be a large wooden paddle.

Private's eyes widen considerably, his mounting fear and confusion snapping to his face with a gasp. Skipper doesn't notice however, as he was occupied with his newly acquired toy. He hadn't gotten much use out of this long sequestered disciplinary tool and had to make sure he wasn't rusty. With a practiced flick he slaps the large block of wood against his flipper, producing a rather raucous slapping noise. Private watches, almost hypnotized as the thing rears back only to be thrown into his commanding officer's flipper with enough force to produce an audible crack, yelping involuntarily each time it did.

But then his leader's attention is once again trained on him, staring him down with the gaze of a disappointed father. A part of the private wanted to throw the door the laboratory open right then and there and make a run for the outside world, but he was far nobler than that-he understood that he had made a mistake and was fully willing to accept any punishment his leader felt inclined to offer; and he expected Skipper was going to use the grossly oversized board in his flipper to do so. But Skipper makes no move to indicate that he intends to subdue his cadet. Instead he rather calmly takes on a sitting position in the middle of the room and waits patiently with paddle in flipper for his subordinate to connect the dots. And when the young soldier finally did piece together his leader's cryptic actions, his beak nearly hit the floor.

"Skipper you can't be serious…" He soon realizes that his objections are for naught as he catches the stern look his leader was throwing his way; the same look that told everyone on the team that Skipper meant business. At that moment he consigns himself to the heel of his commanding officer, knowing that debating would more than likely exacerbate his punishment. So with languid steps and burning cheeks, he once again advances on his Skipper.

Now standing but a few paces away from his Skipper, he waits for the judicator to bestow upon him the punishment for which he is so renowned; but the righteous judgment never comes, the only thing he receives is a choking silence that threatens to steal his voice completely and render him inaudible in the face of his Skipper's intimidating stature. And finally when the absence of force from his usually abrasive leader becomes too much for the little penguin to bear, he steals a glance at his commanding officer only to be met by that exact same look of shame and expectance coalesced into a stare so potent that it could melt the bravest solider on the spot.

"Skipper I don't -"Then the force finally comes. It is so sudden and unexpected that the Private has no time to react as he is effectively thrown onto the chair and over his leader's lap with a squeal of surprise. Although Private's face now bears all-displaying his fear and apprehension as clearly as a tapestry would a scene from old, Skipper retains his practiced stoicism, raising the paddle high into the air-poised to strike at any moment. What the Private remembered most of all however was not the fear or the tenseness in his muscles at that moment, no; what Private remembered most about that split second of dead-stillness before the paddle connected with his still untouched backside was the overwhelming shame that ate at him from the inside out. He thanked his lucky stars that the nearly four inch steel door that separated the lab from the rest of the HQ was closed and locked or he didn't think he'd ever be able to set foot in their headquarters again. Then it clicked; now Private understood why Skipper had chosen to punish him in Kowalski's laboratory. The room was for the most part sound-proof, and would do a good job at muffling the recursive slapping of wood on bare feathers; not to mention any stray squeaks or squeals from the victim.

And that's how he'd ended up in Kowalski's lab, over Skipper's lap, receiving the worst spanking of his life. But in retrospect he did deserve it for endangering his team and causing them a whole lot of unneeded strife. Still when he finally saw what Skipper had in mind when he said he meant to punish the cadet, Private didn't think he'd go this far. But his string of thoughts is effectively interrupted as the dreaded punishment begins.

He takes the first few without complaint; the only indication of his discomfort is played out across his face, which depicts perfectly a penguin in pain. But as the treatment continues and the slaps begin to coalesce together into a stinging blanket of pain across both sections of his backside, the little Private can't help but utter the occasional whimper of pain as the stinging builds upon itself.

WHACK! The paddle comes down yet again, producing an almost sickening slap as it connects with the cadet's bright red backside. The soldier lets out a pained whimper as the successive swatting of his rump starts to break through his tough guy façade. But he finds that after a few more vicious swats he can no longer even feel his backside and only vaguely registers the jolts of pain as they assail his quickly reddening rump.

The salvo of swats and slaps continues for not ten more seconds before the Private feels a peculiar tingle begin to egress from his neither regions. Confusion sets in amidst the dull throbs of pain as an unexpected jolt of pleasure shoots up his spine when the disciplinary tool once again connects with his backside. He squirms uncomfortably on his leader's lap as yet another swat connects with his backside, a jolt of pleasure in tandem with the stinging pain.

It was getting difficult for the Private to keep the assortment of squeals and squeaks that were threatening to slip past his beak contained. If he wasn't whimpering in pain at a particularly hard swat he was mewling with wanton pleasure as the once vicious sting of discipline turned into an exotic kind of pleasure the he didn't even know existed prior to his "punishment."

Private wasn't sure how much more of this punishment he could handle, the burning sensation that now encompassed his entire backside coupled with the random but not completely unwarranted jolts of pleasure that would shoot up his spine every now and again were making what was meant to be a simple punishment into something so much more complicated. But it seemed just when he had hit his breaking point the litany of savage strikes came to an abrupt end, much to the simpering cadet's relief. And before the tiny penguin even had a chance to recover from the brutal punishment he is rather forcefully rolled off of his leader's lap and onto the floor, his backside screaming in protest as it connects with harsh, unforgiving concrete.

The addled penguin yelps as his now extremely sensitive backside comes into contact with the cold stone of the laboratory floor. He cringes and wipes the tear from the corner of his eye before chancing a glance at his leader. Noticing the same stony expression etched into the features of his commanding officer's face, he decides to stay his silence. His leader doesn't even acknowledge the Private as he gets up from the chair, pushing it back into place under the table before moving to stash the oversized wooden paddle back inside the cabinet.

Private sits in relative silence as his commanding officer makes his way toward the door. The amount of shame the young cadet had welling up inside himself was already proving to be quite the burden. He had so many things he wanted to say to his leader that for the life of him he couldn't pick just one. But as he sat in silent deliberation the sound of the laboratory door slowly creaking to life caught his attention. By the time he turned to look he only barely caught the glint of regret in his leader's face as the rest of him swiftly disappeared and the door clanged shut, leaving him alone with a sore butt and an ever more sore pride.

He simply sat there for a while, debating on whether or not to call Skipper on his grievous misuse of power or sweep the whole incident under the rug. But his bout of consulation is cut short when a weary yawn tears through the silence of the room, causing the young cadet to remember that it was barely 4am when he was so rudely awoken to receive his punishment. He tries to stand but his backside screeches keening wails of protest. He ignores the burning agony as best he can however and hoists himself to an entirely unstable standing position. Taking a few much needed breaths and doing all he can to keep the searing pain from his mind, he begins taking short, shaky half-steps, looking entirely more like a duck than penguin as he waddles toward the door and into the main area of the HQ, eager to give him and his bright red butt some much needed rest.


End file.
